Posty!
by Madilayn
Summary: Akire yta asked me to tell her about the Tracy brothers getting letters. So here it is - the mail plane arrives!


With so much being electronic in 2060, it's rare to receive actual paper letters. But they do still exist, and so every now and then, a call came into Tracy Island announcing the arrival of the mail plane.

It so happens that today was one of those days, and Virgil lounged at the side of the runway to take delivery of the bag. He was actually anticipating something in there for himself. He'd never _ever_ tell Brains that he had ordered anything that they could fabricate themselves, but he had seen it advertised and it interested him.

Besides, it was always good to see that other engineers could come up with.

The small plane rolled to a halt and after a minute or two, the door in the side opened and a head popped out. "You might need some help, eh bro," the man said in a broad New Zealand accent.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "I can manage. It's usually only one bag."

"Not today it isn't. Dunno what you lot are up to here, but your brother seems to be popular. There's two bags just for him. And there's one for your grandma that you might wanna loose, eh."

"S'OK. I can get help if I need. You need a hand getting it all out?"

"Nah bro. I can handle it. As long as you can get it out of the way so I can take off again."

"F.A…." Virgil stopped himself in time and just nodded. "Heave it out. We've got a couple of dolleys I can use to get them up to the house," he said and then had to jump back a little as the first bag landed with a very heavy thump just shy of his booted toesies.

"That's… That's a big bag."

Another bag of a similar size, and then a smaller one appeared and Virgil busied himself clearing them to one side. He then dealt with the parcels that came out. Yeah. He was definitely going to have to get one of the transport pods to help move this lot. After the plane had left though.

"Thanks for that," he said to the pilot. "See you again in a couple of weeks?"

"Sooner if your brother keeps getting the mail volume he has there, eh." With a grin, the door slammed shut and Virgil stepped well back to allow the small plane to turn and taxi. He watched it disappear, a speck against the bright blue sky, before he activated the opening to the hidden hangar.

He wanted to know which brother was getting all the mail as well – and why!

* * *

Scott looked at the small pile of letters and groaned. Government Departments just did not get the hang of electronic communications, so he knew that not only would he have to actually print out forms but also physically post them.

Idly he wondered what the IRS would do if he turned up in Thunderbird One and hand delivered them.

He was still grinning as he slit open the first envelope and then groaned. It was times like this when he _really_ missed his father!

* * *

Alan couldn't stop grinning. This part of his studying he loved. The practical bit. When he was sent the components and told to build something from them.

He called up the instructions he had received a week ago and then opened the large box. Carefully he lifted out each item and marked it as having been received. He knew _exactly_ what he was going to make, and had started to scrounge through Brains' stash for the other items he'd need.

He'd found the blueprints one day idly looking through some old prototype files and this one had caught his eye.

It was cool. And he and Gordon would be able to make good use of it once it had been graded.

There would only be one teensy tiny problem, but Alan knew he'd be able to work around it. He was a _Tracy_.

* * *

Virgil managed to move the large box into his own workshop and began to unpack it. Forty-five minutes later he was surrounded by most of the component pieces and was humming happily as he reverse engineered the biggest, most complex water gun he had ever come across. One that shot not only water, but could also shoot a water balloon as well.

He could rebuild it. He could make it better.

And then Gordon had better watch out.

* * *

Gordon was grinning as he looked at the large pile of letters and parcels. It had been three years since he won Olympic gold, but he still got a lot of fan mail. And other stuff.

He chuckled as he opened one of the packages and a ladies swimsuit fell out. He read the letter with it that asked if he could autograph it and return it to the owner. Par for the course really. People seemed to want him to sign anything!

His grin got broader as he read some of the letters. Yeah. He still had it. Girls and guys – they knew a hot thing when they saw it.

Absently he reached out his hand for the next item and opened it, sliding out a picture.

That was when he choked. He looked again. And again. Then checked the envelope. Typed label. But yeah – he knew that return address. But….. _when_!

 _How?_ He was whimpering slightly – not in distress – as he slipped to the ground, unable to let go of the picture. "Ohhh baby," he said and then kissed it. "Ohhh Penny, you know just what to send a guy!"

He wasn't sure he wanted to know how Penny had gotten hold of those items, but he sure as hell knew that he wanted very much to see her in person wearing nothing but his Olympic swimsuit trunks and his gold medal!

* * *

John Tracy whimpered. How had this happened? Why had this happened? All he had done was two question and answer sessions – admittedly from Thunderbird Five. He'd enjoyed it. The questions had all been very intelligent and the askers showed a genuine interest in how he had trained to be an astronaut, and in astronomy.

He'd also had fun answering some tweeted questions too – a sly sense of humour was able to show itself in 140 characters.

But…..

 _This_ was not what he expected. This was more Gordon's or Scott's type of mail. He had three marriage proposals in the first fifty or so letters – and he didn't even want to think about the other proposals.

Or items.

 _Why_? _Why had people sent him their underwear?_

All of a sudden, he regretted coming to Earth. Even if the mail plane had brought him some precious original copies of early astronomy treatises.

It had also brought him… well… _this_.

John activated his communications. "International Rescue, we have a situation."


End file.
